The poetry section is growing at the bookshop where I work. Younger readers huddle together to discuss poems. A science student buys five poetry books to read over semester break. When a retired teacher from out of town comes looking for a Judith Wright book, we get talking, I make suggestions, and he ends up dropping almost $300 on poetry titles. Customers ask for First Nations, Middle Eastern, and queer poets, and they want the canon too, they want to try anything staff find exciting. Readers are seeking ways into poetry. Is it having a(nother) renaissance? The results of this year’s Stella Prize corroborate what I’m seeing on the shop floor.

And so the arrival of the Melbourne-based press no more poetry is worth examining. To date, no more poetry has published twelve books in small print runs and developed a robust local following. I am struck by the cover designs of the four publications before me. Each is a beautiful visual and tactile object: pastel-coloured, matte-finished, hand-friendly. Publishers of poetry in Australia should take note. My two grievances are the minuscule text size inside, a nightmare for anyone with visual impairment, and the unnecessary use of double line spacing.